SEXY WALRUSTRIATHLON & ADVENTURE CLUB

The almanac

Two years ahead.
Nothing cancelled.

Every date the club intends to keep, plus the old feasts it keeps without meaning to.

2027 · 2028 · AND THE NORSE YEAR, AS WE OBSERVE IT

First, the race

THE ONLY DATE THAT MATTERS

Walrus Triathlon XV

Saturday, 11 September 2027

Fixed by the calendar, not by us: the second Saturday in September, for the fifteenth time.

Walrus Triathlon XVI

Saturday, 9 September 2028

Same rule, same weekend, same water. Sixteen years and the club has never once been early.

The second Saturday in September. Every year since 2013. The tide is informed, not consulted.

The club year

ELEVEN FIXTURES AND ONE ARGUMENT

Everything the club has committed to, in order. Attendance is expected, remembered and, where necessary, exaggerated.

  • 1 January, 09:00The New Year SwimVoluntary. Unwise. The only club event where the water is warmer than the air, which is not the same as warm.
  • A Tuesday in JanuaryThe Annual General MeetingHeld in a public house. Attendance is expected to be three. Motions carried: all of them. Minutes lost: all of them.
  • Late JanuaryUp Helly Aa solidarity eveningThe club watches footage of Shetland setting fire to a longship and firmly denies having any ambitions in that direction.
  • A Saturday in MarchThe Repair WorkshopBring the bicycle that makes the noise. It will still make the noise afterwards, but now with a diagnosis.
  • A Sunday in MayThe Kit AmnestyHeld in a car park in Clanfield. Unwanted wetsuits, one-clip shoes and a helmet from 2009 change hands for nothing.
  • JuneThe Tide-Watching WeekendThe club goes to look at the water it will race in. Nobody swims. That is not the point of the weekend, and everyone says so.
  • 21 JuneThe Longest Day RideOut at first light, back in the dark. Distance: enough. Everyone claims it was more.
  • A Saturday in AugustThe Marshals' DrillWhistles, hi-vis and a walk-through of the course, specifically the bit nobody remembers.
  • The second Saturday in SeptemberThe Walrus Triathlon, and the handoverThe tusk, the fang and the golden horn change hands on the slipway within about nine minutes of the last finisher. The date has never moved; only the weather has ever tried it.
  • A Sunday in DecemberThe Winter HandicapNot a race. A run. The distinction has never survived contact with the finish line.
  • 31 December, after darkThe Reading of the Year's RuneThe club reads the year out loud from the almanac, decides whether it approves, and drinks to it either way.

The Norse year

OBSERVED · IN OUR OWN WAY

The old feasts, kept on their proper days by a club that has read about them once and is very confident.

Four of these involve getting into cold water. Two involve preserved food and are best attempted sitting down. One belongs to the elves, who have not invited us and will not.

Where a date is genuinely unfixed in the old sources — as with Álfablót — the club says so rather than inventing one. The club has enough invented dates already.

  • Friday between 19 and 25 JanuaryÞorrablótThe first day of Þorri, the old midwinter month. A feast of preserved things: fermented shark, pickled ram's testicle, rye. The club observes it annually and regrets it annually.
  • Same dayBóndadagur, the husband's dayTraditionally the man of the house is honoured, and traditionally he is expected to do the honours. The club has three members who qualify and all of them work.
  • 19 FebruaryKonudagur, the wife's dayThe counterpart. Flowers, coffee, and a reminder that the club's fastest woman has beaten most of the men reading this.
  • First Thursday after 18 AprilSumardagurinn fyrsti, the first day of summerIn Iceland the summer begins in April and the weather is not consulted. The club swims. This is non-negotiable and largely regretted.
  • The same daySigrblótThe old victory sacrifice of the first day of summer. The club's version is a drink, taken standing, facing the water.
  • 24 JuneJónsmessa, midsummerThe night the cows talk and the seals take off their skins and become people. The club has never confirmed this and has never ruled it out.
  • Saturday between 21 and 27 OctoberVeturnætur, the winter nightsThe old start of winter, and the club's own New Year in all but paperwork. Marked by a long swim and a longer table.
  • Date deliberately unrecordedÁlfablót, the elves' sacrificeThe old sources say it was held in autumn, that it was women's business, and that outsiders were not welcome. The club respects the privacy of the elves, who have never once invited us.
  • Around 21 DecemberJólablót, midwinterThe last of the old feasts and the first of the new one. Log, horn, toast to the dead, toast to the living, toast to the tide.
  • Last Tuesday of JanuaryUp Helly AaShetland's fire festival, mainland and real. The club is not affiliated with it, would like to be, and has been advised to write a letter instead.
  • Late May bank holidayThe Cooper's Hill cheese rollingNot a club event. Included because the club considers it the purest expression of our sport's relationship with gravity, and because somebody always mentions it.

The rune of the week

SIXTEEN RUNES · FIFTY-TWO WEEKS

The club keeps a runic almanac: sixteen runes, cycling with the weeks of the year, one per week, beginning at the turn of the year.

This week's rune is printed below, worked out from today's date, so it is the correct rune and nobody can be accused of choosing it after the fact.

THIS WEEK

Reading the almanac…

  • 01FéWealth, and the argument about who is paying.
  • 02ÚrSlag, dross, and the drill dust in your shed. Something is about to need fixing.
  • 03ThursA giant. Trouble with an appetite. Week for keeping your head down.
  • 04ÓssA god, or a river mouth. Either way, do not swim against it.
  • 05ReiðRiding, travel, the chain coming off two miles from home.
  • 06KaunA boil, a blister, a sore. The saddle has opinions this week.
  • 07HagallHail. Weather that arrives without asking permission.
  • 08NauðrNeed, constraint, the last hour of a long ride.
  • 09ÍssIce. Cold, unforgiving, and the reason for the good wetsuit.
  • 10ÁrA good year, a harvest, and the tide finally on your side.
  • 11SólSun. The one thing the club cannot organise.
  • 12TýrThe one-handed god, who put his hand in a wolf's mouth for a promise. Honesty week.
  • 13BjarkanBirch. Something starting, slightly late in the season.
  • 14MaðrA person. The club. Someone will offer you a lift and then mention the White Fang.
  • 15LögrWater, lake, the sea. The club's element and the club's problem.
  • 16ÝrYew, and a bow: patience, held tension, and the turn at the far end of the course.

The sixteen runes of the younger futhark, with the club's own reading of each. The names and meanings are the real ones; the portents are ours.

Club dates are the club's; the Norse observances are the genuine articles, described as this club keeps them. The almanac is edited whenever the club changes its mind, which is most Januaries.

Every September since 2013
The cabinet